


Fumbling Towards Ecstasy - Methos

by nancy, Zen



Series: Left of Center [1]
Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: Angst, First Time, M/M, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-25
Updated: 2013-08-25
Packaged: 2017-12-24 13:18:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/940450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nancy/pseuds/nancy, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zen/pseuds/Zen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>First time story, m/m sex, angst and just a bit of violence. Methos' perspective.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fumbling Towards Ecstasy - Methos

**Author's Note:**

> Story title borrowed without permission from Sarah McLachlan.
> 
> Thanks and adoration to Maygra. Special thanks to Moonpuppy for being beta goddess at the House Of Slack. Zen&nancy take the blame for any remaining mistakes.
> 
> This story was first published years ago at http://hos.slashcity.com/ and is archived here for preservation and accessibility.

It's an old memory, stretching back across more lifetimes than I can count. Well, I suppose I could come close if I really tried to, but that's the last thing I want to do tonight. The weight of all those lives piled up, stretching out like a river behind me, is the reason I'm here, drinking his Scotch. It comes floating back to me now with the rhythm of the barge swaying, a picture of a man crouching over a fire, the light on the water and the night sounds in the rushes. Peace, contentment. I can't bring back his name, it's a very old memory, I can tell from its liquid, dreamlike quality. Long before Kronos, perhaps before I died. I can see him turning to me with a calm smile of welcome, so familiar. I can't remember his name, but I know he loved me.

"Earth to Methos."

I love the way he says my name, especially now, at three a.m. when I've woken him up. Sometimes I wonder what he thinks, when I show up on his boat in the middle of the night like this. He didn't even ask this time, answering my knock in a dark red robe. The sword was put aside with gratifying speed, and he let me in out of the rain. Going straight to the bar, pouring for us both without even a 'hello'.

His eyes are still sleepy, but he's already more cognizant than I am right now. He's turned from the fire and expects some sort of reply.

"Sorry. I saw a light on, I thought you might still be awake."

I don't want to talk at all, I just want to stay here on his couch and drink his whiskey. I don't really know any more about _why_ I'm here than he does tonight. I don't know what makes me come to him like this, again and again. I have no expectations, no fancies of seduction, it's gone on far too long for that. If Duncan and I were going to have a one night stand, it would have happened two years ago. Now, there is too much between us for either of us to let our defenses down that far. Instead, it's his presence I crave. There is something in him I recognize, something I connect with that has nothing to do with his good looks or his charm.

I know he expects me to say something, to explain why I'm here, or at least begin a conversation, but I have nothing to say for myself. Why is it like this? Why does it matter so much what he thinks of me? It's ridiculous.

"Do you mind if I sleep on your couch? I don't want to try and get a room at this hour."

"I know, you hate hotels."

His voice is expressionless, if I were any less sure of my welcome I'd bolt, right now. For a 400 year old barbarian, he can be impossibly hard to read. He's always surprising me, just when I'm sure I know how he's going to react, he proves me wrong. He seems happy enough to see me, considering the fact that it's the middle of the night and I've woken him up. Maybe we won't have to rehash any of the recent ugliness between us tonight.

"So, where have you wandered back from this time?"

He's sarcastic, but not angry. How many times are we going to have this conversation, and to what purpose? If I knew what it was that drew me to him I could deny it, ignore it. 

"Rome."

"Nice trip?"

"Yeah."

There is something in his voice I can't identify, under the sarcasm. Resentment?

"Another?"

"No, thank you. I'm fine."

I'm not fine. I'm tired, exhausted and tense. I don't have any words, I just want to sit here on his barge with him. It's the companionship, the affinity I feel for him that draws me back. I don't know how to ask for his company. I can't tell him I had to see him, as soon as I got to Paris, that it couldn't wait till morning.

He's still just standing there in front of me, staring at me, holding his empty glass. When I think he's going to tell me to get my own blanket from the chest and go back to his bed, he sits down beside me.

He is naked under the loosely belted robe; I've woken him up enough times to know that Duncan sleeps naked. Very risky, I've always thought, but I doubt he would have the slightest qualm about taking someone's head in the nude. He is the most unselfconscious man I know. Of course he has Amanda to tell him he's beautiful, which he is.

"I'm glad you're back. Paris hasn't been the same without you."

Not at all what I expected him to say. It's very nice to hear, and I can feel some of the tightness in my gut unwinding. It's good to flop on his couch, a hell of a lot more comfortable than the cheap bed in the weekly room I've been renting for the past two months. It feels so safe here, especially tonight, with the fire and Duncan sitting quietly next to me. It's rare that he's willing to be silent, to accept my company without explanations. Whatever fate controls our destinies, I am grateful for this moment. I wish I could crystallize it, freeze it forever. It feels like it's been a really long time since I've been able to relax this much.

I don't want to fall asleep, this time is too precious. I can feel myself fading on the edge of consciousness, my eyes snapping open every few seconds, checking to see if Duncan is still here next to me. He is, his eyes focused on the fire, his legs stretched out, bare feet crossed at the ankles on the coffee table.

"I'm still here," he whispers, smiling.

When did it become normal, not unusual, for him to know exactly what my brain is doing? It doesn't bother me, but it scares me sometimes. I'm always afraid he's going to see more than he wants to. 5000 years of acceptance is an awful lot to expect...and I don't.

"Methos, are you in danger?" his voice is still quiet, but harsh enough to pull me from the edge of sleep.

"No. I just wanted to see you." It's too late to take it back, it doesn't matter, maybe this is all a dream.

His hand on my shoulder feels good, rubbing gently, fingers kneading and pulling at the taut muscles.

"Thank you," I whisper, or think I do, as the other hand joins the first, digging into my shoulders. He has strong hands. No matter how many times he has touched me in anger or violence, still, when I think of his touch, I remember only what it feels like to have his hands kneading my back like this.

His palms under my sweatshirt are a surprise, the heat. The skin burns as his fingers twist and manipulate the stubborn rocks in my shoulders and neck, but it feels too good to tell him to stop. I can feel the red marks, picturing what his hands look like on my pale skin, moving across my back.

Still no words, but I'm awake now, very aware of his touch, and I know he can tell. It feels wonderful, I groan when his finger press into the back of my skull.

I can hear him breathing, feel his hip pressed against my side, sitting on the edge of the couch. I want to turn and look over my shoulder at him, but I don't want to have to talk.

Listening to his breathing, I can tell he's tense. I know he's about to speak when he draws a deep breath. Some perversity of masochism makes me turn my head to look at his face when he opens the next round between us.

"Methos, whatever you want, it's okay."

I'm stunned. As usual, he's 180 degrees from where I thought he was. What do you think you mean, Mac? What do you expect? Is this pity, or acceptance? I don't understand what he's offering.

"If you need my help with something, if you're in some kind of trouble, it's all right. We'll deal with it, okay?"

I'm going to melt, or cry, or otherwise embarrass myself. I bring this man the apocalypse, disappear, show up on his doorstep at 3 a.m., and he offers me his protection. Amazing. I have never, in 5,000 years, met anyone like him. I like to tease him about his boy scout tendencies, and I certainly don't need his protection. Yet the offer, after everything I've done to him, is far more precious to me than he will ever be able to imagine. It is his nature, and he really expects the rest of the world to work that way, even after 400 years of people proving him wrong and screwing him over. I wish I could say I wasn't one of them... and still, he tells me everything will be okay, he will protect me and make everything better. I would rather have this, his acceptance of me as one of his "clan" to love and protect, than a one night stand, or a pity fuck. Which is likely all it would be, if we ever did anything about the tension that sometimes feels more like attraction between us.

"Thank you Duncan, but honestly, I didn't get myself into any trouble in Rome. I came back because... I missed everyone. I know there are things we need to talk about. I was honest with you when I told you I was Death, I was. But I was angry, and I wanted to make you angry, I wanted to get away and get myself and everyone else out of danger. I'm sorry it didn't work out that way. I decided that now that it's all over, I owe it to you to talk about it. I know you have questions about my past, and if you had asked them before, Duncan, I would have told you the truth, I swear it, but you didn't, you just accepted me as I was..."

"I believe you. I don't want to judge you Methos, you don't have to answer to me. I do accept you. I'm glad you came back, even if it was only to explain yourself."

For a moment I get the distinct impression that he's disappointed. What do you want Duncan? Someone to watch over? He is so close. Could that possibly be yearning I think I see in his coffee brown eyes? The impulse to touch him has a magnetic quality. This is so dangerous. I know what he is, and still it takes all my determination not to reach out and touch him, to see him react. Would he pull away, embarrassed, or angry? I doubt it.

"Methos... will you stick around for awhile this time? Can you take that risk now?"

I wonder if he can feel the layers of questions in that? There is so much at stake here... I'm afraid. If I stay, this is only going to get more complicated.

"Uh, well, I really don't have any plans. How's your beer stock?"

It's good to hear him laugh, but it doesn't do much to break the tension.

"Methos..." he's taken my hand in his, locking our fingers. Is this really going to happen? Oh god, does he feel that? We're going to break each other's fingers.

"There is something I want to talk about. I don't know how to start..." he's blushing...very appealing. Have I lost my mind? Duncan MacLeod of the clan MacLeod is going to seduce me. This is a very bad idea, Duncan, don't do this, please. We will hurt each other, far too much.

"Do you feel this Methos?" The energy is burning up my arm; it feels like the skin of our palms want to cauterize together. "I have never felt this with another man before, but I know what it is. Do you deny it?"

"No, but I should. I have to. MacLeod, do you even know what you want? I am _not_ Amanda. This is dangerous, for both of us."

I'm sure he can hear my heart pounding. It hurts. I'm glad Immortals don't have heart attacks. Oh Duncan, you are very, very hard to say no to. You always are, you manipulate me without even realizing it. If we go to bed together now, we won't be able to pretend it didn't happen. It will change everything. I'm not ready for this, you're definitely not ready for this.

"Aye, I do. I want yew ta stay. I want yew ta talk to me. I want yew ta tell me why you think it's dangerous for me to touch yew. What is this Methos? Tell me, I'm noh afraid."

Fire. His hand covers my heart perfectly, as if he could reach inside my chest and pull it out. He is so close, I want to touch him so badly. One kiss, I have to know what he tastes like.

His lips are soft, pliant. I've shocked him. In spite of his bravado, he didn't expect me to kiss him. Well I don't want to talk about it, it won't help anything. This can't happen, but I'm going to kiss you, I'm going to have this one moment to taste you. I am going to remember this for the rest of my life. Open your mouth, Duncan, let me in. God, you are incredible, where did you learn to kiss like this? So soft, I want to crawl inside you, I want to swallow you.

"Methos..."

"No Duncan, we can't."

Time to go... I have _got_ to get out of here. Okay, only a few steps to the knapsack. Good, only three more to the door. God, one kiss and he can get me so hard it hurts to stand up, _definitely_ time to go. How does he move that fast? Back to the door, arms crossed over your chest, playing stubborn Scot. Oh god Duncan, you are incredible.

"Not before you tell me why Methos! You ARE NOT going to just fly out of here and disappear, not this time!"

He can yell loud when he wants to, what a picture...get it together old thing, you _can_ intimidate him. I'm so close, up against his chest, breathing hard. It hurts to be this close to him. Oh, Duncan, I hate it when it comes to metal between us, but we _can't_ do this, I have to get out of here. He is angry about my sword at his neck, but he's not moving. Not looking for the katana either. I'm gratified, Duncan.

"Duncan, move away from the door. I'm sorry, we can't do this. I'm sorry I came here, sorry I bothered you, but you are going to move, and let me go. NOW."

Eyes bright, nostrils flaring, hurt and stubborn pride all over your face, you are so hard to resist, Duncan. Don't make me make you angry, don't make me hurt you, just let me go. You don't really want this to happen, you don't know what you want. I don't want to do this, I don't want to hurt you.

"You will take my head because you kissed me and you liked it? Why do you deny me, Methos, are you afraid to let your guard down? Are you afraid I'll betray you?"

"MacLeod, I'm going to leave. Now get out of my way. You think that just because there is an attraction between us I want to be part of your insane life? Don't delude yourself, Highlander."

He is so angry, eyes flashing, it amazes me that he still trusts me enough to move forward against my blade at his throat. Surprises me enough that when he pushes his hands into my chest with all his strength we both go toppling backwards. He wrenches the sword from my hand, telling me with angry eyes that he knows damn well I won't use it.

His hands are crushing my wrists, the veins throbbing and tingling from the restriction of blood. His mouth is just as angry as his eyes. His teeth hurt but his tongue is as wonderful as last time.

"If you will not talk to me, and you will not kill me, then you will give me what I want."

He isn't worried about his weight on top of me, and it's getting hard to breathe. One more time, I am going to try to resist this. I am going to do everything I can to save us.

"Are you going to rape me, MacLeod?"

The magic word, he recoils as if I'd burned him. He looks like he wants to cry, or scream. I feel that way too.

"Rape you? I dunna wish to rape yew, yew are my friend."

The hurt in his eyes is too much for me, I can't do this. He started this, and he's like a dog with a bone when he's gotten hold of something. Unfortunately, it's me he's gotten hold of.

"Duncan, let me go, we can talk."

He's back on the couch before I look up, hiding behind his hair, defenses already up. I'm too old for this. What can I say to him? That I love him too much to go to bed with him, that it will hurt too much? That the game will come between us, that I'm scared to death of what I feel for him? None of those things, but I need to give him some kind of truth, I can't bear to see him hurt by false words.

He doesn't move away when I sit down next to him, but I can see him tense up.

"Duncan, I'm sorry. I've reacted badly. Yes, I am attracted to you. You are extremely desirable to me, but that's something I can't do anything about. Whether or not I decide to sleep with you is an entirely different issue. Why do you want to have sex with me? Have you never been with another man in 400 years?"

"No. I've never felt this kind of attraction to anyone before." He's mumbling, but the accent's not as thick. "I want to be with you, I want to be close to you. I need you, I need to know what it feels like to be with you. I don't know why. What are you afraid of?"

"Everything," but it is only a mumble against his lips. He's never been with a man in his whole life, but he will take my blade against his throat to get on top of me. He is so brave, trying to tell me how it feels to want so badly something he has never considered before. I love him, I know, and if it is only curiosity, or hunger, it's going to kill me. And if it's more than that it will probably kill us both, but I cannot deny him.

There is no anger in his touch now. He's less hesitant than I expect him to be, putting his arms around me to draw me close to the heat of his body. I love his mouth. He is kissing me as if it is the last thing he will do before dying, pouring his soul into me. I could be content to kiss him like this all night. I don't want to move, his lips are so soft, convincing me that this will happen. I don't know what he wants, I hope he does.

His hands explore my chest, under my sweatshirt. His eyes are shut tight, his lips mobile, his tongue burrowing into my mouth, warm and insistent. I'm going to lose my mind, his hands are moving over my body restlessly, asking permission. I know I should say no, that we can't handle this, but it's too much.

That's it, control is no longer an option here. I start pushing him back, slowly, giving me a second to catch my breath. His smile is brilliant, once I've undone the robe I am torn between wanting to look at him and wanting to devour him. His skin is so much darker than mine, we look beautiful together. His eyes are bright, his chest moving rapidly with his breathing. If he keeps looking up at me like that I'm going to come in my pants. God I want him, I want to devour him. I hope I don't scare him to death, but he's pushed me too far, I can't resist this.

His skin tastes good, spicy and sharp. Licking my way down his neck, he is squirming underneath me. Whether because he likes it or because he doesn't I can't tell. If he suddenly gets scared, tells me to stop, I wonder if I'll be able to? I hope so. How many times have I imagined taking him this way? His eyes are still closed. Are you afraid to look at me, Duncan? Or is it just too much...

His hands are in my hair, trying to get a grip on the short spikes on the top of my head as I lick my way down his chest, sliding to my knees beside the couch. He has an innie belly button, very small, and he's ticklish. I have to laugh at myself, at my desperation. I need this as badly as he does, and I have far more to lose.

He has a beautiful cock, long and elegant, the head sharply defined. I can't help it, I take him into my mouth. No reassuring touch with my hand, no build-up, just my mouth devouring him, sucking down to the mat of brown curls. We exhale sharply together, adjusting to the shock of it. He feels good, but the angle is difficult. I move up his length with far more care, my tongue memorizing every inch of his flesh. So smooth, hard and slick with my saliva, hot and engorged with blood. Swirling my tongue rapidly across the head, letting him feel the graze of my teeth. He's shaking, his hands are clenched into fists at his sides, and he moans when I pull him into my throat, closing my mouth around him.

Oh, I like that. I want to hear him moan like that for a long time. He is easy to move, letting me lift his hips to turn him, stretching his long legs out on the couch. Much better, kneeling beside him now I can move over him, devouring him from above. He moves easily in and out of my throat, wet skin sliding in deep thrusts. The way his hips come up to meet me as I slide down him, the muscles on his thighs standing out, taut on the bone, makes me wild. He is loud, moaning my name in a thick burr, telling me that he likes it, that I am wonderful. Heaven... perfection. I wish I could hold him here forever. I take him deep, pressing my lips to the base of his cock, inhaling his scent through my nostrils. It is so intensely emotional, the feeling of holding him, surrounding him with my mouth. He is very responsive, twitching and straining against my tongue as it flicks up and down him.

Finally, I take pity on him, setting a steady rhythm, sucking him gently as my mouth travels quickly up and down, letting him thrust deeply into the back of my throat. He's bucking in my mouth, groaning in Gaelic. I can barely hold onto him, he is thrusting so wildly. I'm afraid he'll hurt himself on my teeth and concentrate on trying to hold still, keeping my lips tight in a steady suction as he thrusts up into my mouth. His grip on my hair is suddenly painful, trying to pull me off his shuddering cock. I understand, he doesn't think it's polite to cum in my mouth, but I want it. I want to absorb him, to swallow him, to feel him pulse against the back of my tongue. Give in, Duncan, give it up, don't try to hold it back, let go. He hangs on for a few for more minutes, moaning, my mouth moving over him possessively, milking him, sucking and swirling my tongue over the liquid oozing from the tip. He comes with a sharp cry, spurting into my mouth in one long stream. His quickening is buzzing in my head, I can feel the vibration in my skull. I don't want to move, but if I don't swallow I'll choke, so I pull him gently from my mouth with my hand, swallowing his come.

I don't want to look at him, I'm afraid to meet his eyes. I feel slightly ridiculous, fully clothed, my coat still on. He reaches for me, catching my arm to haul me against his chest. He has a huge, silly grin on his face that makes me feel instantly better.

"Will you stay, at least till morning? Will you let me try to please you?"

He recovers fast. I take my coat off, feeling very self conscious.

He's pounced on me again, grinning and trying to yank my hiking boots off without undoing the laces. I can't help it, before I know it I'm on the floor laughing with him, wrestling for fun and the pleasure of feeling his strength. When he's got my jeans undone and around my ankles, I go still under him, inhaling a great breath of air that gets stuck inside me. I'm nervous, self conscious on the floor with my shirt still on and my pants around my ankles. Duncan is pulling off my socks, finally wrestling my jeans off my legs and tossing them over the back of the couch, to land somewhere out of sight.

"Can I take you in my mouth, as you did me?"

"I won't stop you," My voice is shaky, nerves and the ache of being hard for so long, then finally released from the tight jeans.

Instead, he pulls my shirt over my head, making annoyed sounds when he realizes there's two layers to deal with. I'm trying to help, but I'm not much good. I feel like I've frozen under his eyes. I never thought I would be this nervous, almost embarrassed, to be naked in front of him. It's the way he's looking at me, taking his time, dragging his eyes slowly from my face down my body and back up again. This man has perfected the leer to a form of art.

It's almost a relief when he finally does touch me, his palms flat on my chest.

"I have been denying this attraction almost since the first moment I met you, do you know that?" he asks me softly as his hands move over my chest.

"I have been drawn to you in a way different from anything I have ever felt before, with Mortal or Immortal. I fought it...but it didn't go away."

His hands are stroking down my chest, gentling me, soothing my nerves as if he's the initiator here, and I the inexperienced one. I don't know what to say to that, but he's talking again, his eyes searching my face intimately, open and trusting.

"I ignored it for a long time, I didn't think about it, or tried not to. But every time I saw you the desire grew. After Bordeaux, I found myself analyzing what happened there over and over again. Being inside you like that, the double quickening, only made me want to be closer to you. I thought about you all the time, I kept going over every moment I spent with you in my head, trying to figure out if you felt it too. You are so amazing to me. What you did to me, just now...you devastate me, and I want to please you so badly, I want to give you satisfaction."

Watching him moving hesitantly down my body is a special kind of torture. His mouth is playful, nipping and licking across my collarbone and down my chest. He's going to kill me. His hands are still gentle,stroking down my hips and thighs, kneading the muscles slowly. His hand covers me and I gasp, the contact almost painful after being hard so long.

"I'm sorry, did I do something wrong?" he is immediately contrite, solicitous.

"No," I look up at him, unable to say anything more, hoping he can read the need in my face.

His head is bent over me, the long, thick hair ticklish on my belly. I can't take my eyes from him, watching as he dips low to place a quick kiss on the dripping head of my cock. He licks his lips, thoughtfully, then smiles. Taking me in both hands, he holds me up to his lips, licking delicately all around the head and down the underside. His tongue touches me with light butterfly movements, sending shivers over every nerve. His lips close around me, his tongue rubbing insistently across the hole. It feels so incredibly good, the sight of him is almost as satisfying as his mouth, sucking me into impossible warmth. Even with his lips around me, he is still grinning, licking me like I'm his favorite flavor lollipop. I can't believe the sounds I'm making, curling my body around him on the floor. He lifts he head, holding me in his hand.

"Is this what you like Methos? Tell me. Tell me what you want."

"I want to move to the bed."

That makes him laugh, and he hauls me to my feet, dragging me the short distance to his bed. It's huge, and very comfortable, spread with a goose down comforter. He is watching me, waiting for me to tell him what I want.

Pulling him close, I bury my face in his long hair. I am trembling in his arms, unable to control my body's reaction. Arching against him, squirming to feel the contact of our skin moving against one another. His cock is rock hard again, and I close my hand around our erections, thrusting my hips against him. My hand holds us together, rubbing across the oozing heads every few thrusts to spread the moisture. Soon we are slick, moving our hips in perfect rhythm, our fingers interlaced around our hard-ons . He is anting, his eyes wide with wonder at the pleasure of this contact. He feels so good, moving against me. His breath is warm in my ear, his heart pounding against my chest. He is beautiful. We're on our sides, stretched out diagonally across the bed. His long, muscular hip and thigh are pressed against mine, our hands moving together, faster now, but still erratic, holding back the explosion.

"Methos?"

"Yes Duncan?"

"There is something...I want," he pulls out of my grasp, rolling onto his stomach next to me. Turning his head to look at me over his shoulder, he asks quietly, not breaking our gaze,

"Will you fuck me? I want...I want to know what it feels like to have you inside me."

I don't know how I keep myself from coming, right there, does he have any idea what his words do to me?

"Oh yes, but not like that."

I take his shoulders, turning him over gently onto his back. He is looking up at me, confused.

"How?"

"This is much nicer, if a little more physically demanding. You don't have to do anything, just relax, let me play with you for awhile, okay? Have you ever experimented with penetration with a woman, Duncan?"

" Okay. Um... sort of."

After his incredibly erotic and straightforward request, I am surprised to see him blushing. He's still smiling though. It amazes me that he trusts me this much, that he wants me enough to ask for this, even though he is obviously a bit frightened by the prospect of having me inside him. I can do this, I can take this slowly, make him enjoy it. It's a bit daunting, being his first, but I have to admit there is a part of me that is fiercely glad that I am. That he will submit to me his desire and his fear.

"Did you like it?"

"Yes," it is only a whisper, but I continue, moving my hand from his cock to stroke his balls, then to follow the line of nerve stretched behind the sac, pressing gently.

"Ohhh," he is arching his back up off the bed, as if he can relieve the tension building between his legs with height.

My fingers move in circles around his puckered hole, drifting up the deep cleft between his cheeks and down again to tease the entrance.

"Do you like this?"

He nods, his lips pressed tightly together, his eyes holding mine, as big as saucers.

Do you have any lubricant?"

"Umm, Vaseline, in the bathroom."

I don't want to go into the harmful effects and inadequacies of petroleum based lubricants, so I just shake my head. Looking around I spot a bottle of massage oil on his dresser, and scramble to the edge of the bed. I am just able to reach it without getting up, returning to kneel between his legs.

"This will work better," I explain. Bending his knees first, I pull his hips up until his ass cheeks are resting comfortably on my thighs, his legs over my shoulders.

Comprehension widens his eyes, smiling up at me. He is relaxed, aroused, his hard cock resting against his stomach. Pouring a little of the oil into my cupped hand, I spread it gently over his skin. Beginning at the spot behind his balls, I slide my slick fingers slowly back to his tight entrance. Sitting back on my heels, I lower my mouth to his cock, drawing patterns across his hard flesh with my tongue as I spread more of the oil between his cheeks.

He is focused on my hand, I can tell, not even really aware of my mouth on his cock. That's good, my lips are only there to distract him if he needs it. I push my index finger slowly inside him, my heart leaping at his cry of pleasure. He is already trying to move against my finger, squirming as I press in a little deeper.

"No love, lie still, be patient. This is going to take a little time, but I promise it will be worth it."

I move around a little inside him, rotating slowly, stretching the passage with careful pressure.

"Does that feel good?"

"Yes, very good," he moans, arching up to push against the intrusion.

More oil, and I am able to get two fingers buried deep inside him. My mouth is still on his cock, caressing him with soft kisses up and down his length. He is remarkably plaint beneath me, moving slowly against my fingers inside him. I know it is trust, and an absolute certainty that I will cause him no harm, no unnecessary pain, that keeps him so relaxed and willing. His eyes never leave my face, telling me how much he is enjoying this intimate touch inside him.

My cock feels like it's going to explode. I try to concentrate on his responses, stretching his passage gently with my fingers, a little at a time, until a third joins the two buried deep in his ass. His eyes widen, and I catch the first hint of fear in his expression. My mouth reaches to envelop him, tracing the lines of his head with my tongue, sucking strongly as my fingers continue to wriggle inside him. He is moaning softly, looking up at me with pleading eyes. I doubt he even knows if he is asking me to stop, or to continue. It's okay Duncan, I know how to do this, it may be scary, but it won't be painful, and when you come your going to think a quickening is nothing more than a tame pyrotechnics display. Trust me, sweet, just trust me now.

Sucking him deep into my throat, I balance his hips in my hands, taking his weight.

"Your mouth..." he murmurs, his cock throbbing against my lips.

Uncurling from my position over his cock, I look down at him. His eyes are wild, sweat covers his chest, his shoulders pressing back into the bed. Removing my fingers from him to spread the oil generously over my dick I nudge the head gently up against him.

"Are you ready Duncan?"

"Uhh... yes," he hisses, squeezing his eyes shut.

"Just relax," I whisper between clenched teeth.

The head pushes in easily, and I groan out loud as the ring of muscle tightens around me. His eyes snap open to meet mine, shock evident in his brown eyes.

"Are you okay?" I'm going out of my mind trying not to move inside him, trying not to shove myself into his heat, but I have to ask. I don't want to hurt him.

"You feel enormous," he whispers, trying to squirm.

"It's okay, just relax, relax Duncan, let yourself feel it. I'm not going to hurt you. I'll go very slowly now."

I press a bit further inside him, careful of the angle. My cock rubs over his prostate and he groans, throwing his head back against the mattress.

He feels so incredible. It's more than I ever imagined, his eyes holding mine as I sink slowly inside him. He is gripping me tight, muscles tense around my cock. It feels so good, I'm going to explode. No, not yet, inhale, exhale, count, breath, again. I want him to relax, to melt around me. I arch my back, relieving angry muscles, pushing into his body with a slow, insistent thrust of my hips. Taking his cock in my hand, I squeeze him gently, watching the pleasure on his face. His hand gropes for my free one, interlocking our fingers, holding on to me with a death grip. His eyes are closed again. Gods, he is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. Magnificent.

Moving as slowly as I can bear, I begin to thrust inside him, pulling back only a little, then pressing deeper.

"Ahh, Methos."

"Love..."

I bite my lower lip, tasting blood, as he begins to move tentatively against me. So hard to hold back, not to pour out my soul to him, to tell him how much I love him, when I have him writhing beneath me like this, so far inside him I think I can feel his heart beating. Oh Duncan, I am so lost, I love you so desperately, forgive me this, that I had to have you. 

He is panting now, his eyes wide open, lifting his hips up to push back against me harder, asking for more. Thrusting up into him, letting him feel my hunger, I realize that I have never felt so close to heaven. Pure, intense pleasure, as I begin to let go, stroking inside him with long drawn out thrusts that make us both moan. 

"Methos!" He cries my name, frightened now at the intensity of the pleasure, the deep invasion of his body. 

"Shh, it's okay, I've got you," I whisper, leaning over his body to gather him in my arms, pulling him close. Stretched out over him, his hips pulled up onto my thighs, my cock buried inside him, I want to tell him that I love him, that he is safe, that I will catch him when he falls. 

Altering the angle of my entry, I take his hips in my hands, holding him over my cock. Lifting him up, I pull almost all the way out, hearing him cry out in protest. Sinking back deep inside him, until my balls are pulled up tight against his, I want this to last forever. I want to hold him in my arms, panting and wild, forever. The need is too great, I have to move, I have to thrust, my control shredding into strands that fall away until I am pumping into him, gasping for breath. 

I'm going to come, there is no way I can hold back the explosion building inside me. My hand goes to his cock, pumping him in my fist in a steady cadence, set to the pace of my thrusts inside him. He is screaming, his head twisting from side to side on the white comforter beneath us. I feel him tighten around me, the muscles contracting with the pulsing of his cock in my hand, spilling hot, sticky cum over my fingers to splatter on his belly. I am drowning, falling, spiraling into him in an endless wave of pleasure. It rips through me, and I lose control, battering against him with sharp, fast thrusts into his ass. I can't tell which of us is shouting anymore, I only know that I have been pulled down into a river of ecstasy, the current rushing through me, turning everything inside me to liquid, spilling into him. 

He is crying, tears sliding from the corners of his eyes, tightly closed. I feel him tremble, the shudder running through him as I pull carefully out of his exhausted body. Spent, I collapse beside him, turning his face to me with my hand on his cheek. 

"Are you okay?" I whisper, willing him to open his eyes, to look at me. 

He takes a deep, shuddering breath, pushing his face into the hollow of my shoulder. I wrap my arms around him, holding the back of his head in my hand, rocking him slightly in my arms. 

"Yes," his voice is deep, thick with emotion. 

Is he really? I tried to be gentle. I'm quite out of practice in the deflowering four hundred year old virgins department, but he was amazing. He trusts me completely, it scares the hell out of me, I don't ever want to do anything to lose that trust. I love him so much, how am I ever going to find the strength to leave him? Not tonight. Tomorrow, tomorrow is soon enough to try to deal with what we've done. For now, I have him here in my arms and I'm going to hold him all night, I'm going to have this to remember forever. 

"I'm sorry, that was...incredible. I didn't think it would be like that, that I would be able to feel your heart beating inside me. Don't leave me Methos, not now, please." 

"Shh, it's okay, I'm not going anywhere," he is so sweet, he has already broken my heart, and he doesn't even know it. God help me, I don't know how I'm going to be able to leave him. Watching his hair falling through my fingers, his face still turned into my chest, I am so happy here. 

"Duncan, look at me, please?" 

Gratifying, how quickly he lifts his head to look up at me, brown eyes wet and full of hope. 

"If you want me to stay, I will stay, I promise." 

"I want you to stay." 

"Did I hurt you?" 

He blushes, shaking his head a little, "No, not at all, it was just...very intense. I loved having you inside me, so close. Thank you." 

"You are most welcome," my love, my soul. 

"Methos?" 

"Hmm?" 

"Do you usually...when your with other men...do you ever..." 

So sweet, you can take me any time you like Duncan, you already have me... 

"I like both, the dominant and submissive roles, although it's been a very long time since I have given myself to a man. Is that what you're asking?" 

"Yes, will you let me?" 

"Yes, if you want to, but not tonight. You've exhausted me." 

He chuckles against my chest, burrowing closer. What it does to me, to hold him like this. 

"I love you." 

He says it so quietly, I almost don't hear him.. 

"I can't help it, Methos, I tried," he whispers, touching me with shaking hands. "I know this is more than you want, more than you think we can handle, but don't sneak out of here in the morning, okay?" 

"It already is morning," I tell him softly, looking at the dawn spilling in the barges small windows, making bright patches of light on the floor. 

Kissing the top of his head, I inhale his scent. More than I want? Not nearly, I want to have him like this until the end of time, but I doubt fate will let us have even a fraction of that. I shouldn't have done this, now I'll hurt him even more. It was better when it was just a possibility between us, now there is no way to take back all the pieces of me inside him. It's going to hurt so much, leaving him... 

"Sleep, Duncan, dream well." 

I lift his head with a finger under his chin, pressing my lips to his, one last time. He kisses me as if he can burn his memory onto my lips, searing me with his taste. His head falls back to my shoulder, his legs thrown out over mine. Reaching for the blankets, twisted up at our feet, I cover us, letting him settle down against me again. He sighs, pressing his cheek to my chest, already drifting off. I watch his eyelashes flutter, a feeling welling up in me so strong, it aches. 

His hair falls over my shoulder, his hand curls limply around my cock, holding me in his sleep. I haven't slept in almost 48 hours now, but I'm not tired anymore. It is so sad, us, everything. If I thought we could make it work, I would stay, for as many years, or lifetimes, as he would have me, but it won't, it can't. 

He is so dangerous to my survival. Just being around him is dangerous, this place is like an Immortal central station. You never know who's going to show up next, come to challenge the legend, Duncan MacLeod of the clan MacLeod. Would that I had met him a thousand years ago, or more, when there was still time, when the Gathering was only something we gossiped about, too far off in the future to be real. Now there is no time for us, and the world isn't going to let us pretend it doesn't exist, no matter how much we might want to. If Kronos could come back, track me down, track me to him, others will also, it's only a matter of time. The longer I stay "out", above ground, the more I tempt the demons behind me. You don't want to deal with any more of my past, Duncan, believe me. Kronos, at least, had his good points, there are others whose minds are even more twisted, wholly evil. I won't bring that to you Duncan, I love you too much... 

I hold him for as long as I dare, watching the patches of sunlight moving slowly across the wood floor. I don't want to let go of him, sleeping so sweetly on my shoulder, but I will not hurt him anymore than I have to. It's better if I leave now, before he wakes, than to go through another scene like the one at the door last night. Oh Duncan, I'm going to miss you for such a long time. One night isn't enough... 

Crawling carefully from his bed, he doesn't even make a sound when I move him, pulling a pillow under his cheek, where my chest had been. If I stand here looking at him like this for another moment I won't be able to leave him, and I have to. Finding my clothes in the living room, I look around for something to write on. I have to leave him a note, something, I can't just run out on him without any kind of explanation. Paper on his desk, a pen that looks like it should belong to him. 

_Duncan,_

_I'm sorry, forgive me, not goodbye, just until we meet again... Please, understand, I can't bear to have you for only a little while, so I will not try to have you at all. I could not stand to let the game come between us, as you must know some day it will. So I leave, and take you with me, everywhere I go. Be strong, live, fight another day,_

_M._

Not much of a note, but then, I never was much good at good-byes, I hope he knows I love him, because I cannot bear to tell him, only to turn around and leave, too cruel. Still, I hope he knows... 

A cold wind greets me, the barge shadowed now by the huge cathedral, blocking out the sun as I slip quietly off his boat and back in the direction I came from, only a few hours ago...it feels like a life time. Someday, I hope, I will come back to him. I hope he is the same, I hope he never changes. Even if he does, for the man he is today, I will love him until the end of time. 

~-~

all the fear has left me now and I'm not frightened anymore 

it's my heart that pounds beneath my flesh 

it's my mouth that pushes out this breath 

and if I shed a tear I won't cage it 

I won't fear love 

and if I feel a rage I won't deny it 

I won't fear love 

~-~

**Author's Note:**

> Song lyrics borrowed without permission from Sarah McLachlan.


End file.
